Love Is A Wave

When I was around 20 years old, I saw the film Velvet Goldmine for the first time and was instantly infatuated with the bygone era of glam depicted so colorfully in the film. It sent my Bowie adoration to embarrassingly new levels (I recall a few instances of dawning crimson eye-shadow for performances with the old band I was in at the time), and inspired me to catch-up on all the other key figures of the glitter-pop movement. Roxy Music, T. Rex, Sweet, and so on, were added to my “to buy” list of records I'd always carry with me. It wasn't long before I realized Brian Eno's vital role in the development of genre, and after digging into (and falling in love with) Here Come the Warm Jets and Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy), I graduated onto his next sets of work. While I was a bit taken aback by his stylistic departure with Another Green World, I had no clue what to make at first of 1975's Discreet Music. I picked it up without question, took it home and played it for the first time without reading the liner notes. The odd minimal sounds were new to my ears and left me a bit confused, despite a general appreciation of the lulling quality of what came through the speakers. With a second pass through, I opened up the liner notes and read the story behind the album. It instantly made sense, and introduced my first loving appreciation for what was to become the ambient genre.

The story behind Discreet Music goes something like this. In 1974, Brian Eno was hit and run over by a taxi cab. The injuries he suffered were pretty severe and he was confined to a hospital bed for an extended period of time. A friend of his dropped off a record player along with an LP of classical harp music to help Eno keep in good spirits while immobile. One day Eno mustered up the energy to put the record on, but upon returning to his bed he'd realized that the music was only coming out of one channel and at barely audible volume. His energy was spent and so he laid in his hospital bed listening to the muffled sounds coupled with the natural city soundtrack outside his room window. It was in this moment that he decided to create a work that resembled this sort of tranquil environment of sound, and it was this concept that became Discreet Music - the first real ambient record to exist in the modern sense of rock and pop music. Some argue that the kraut-rock pioneers were dabbling in the genre prior to this, but the intention behind Eno's efforts seem far more fitting and focused. Since 1974, the genre has exploded and its influence can be heard nearly everywhere from dream-pop and shoegaze to industrial, electronica, experimental classical and left-field hip-hop.

The reason for the above anecdote was to provide a little insight into whats been presently running through speakers of my home stereo. While I've always been a fan of hazy, drifting melodies that wander about aimlessly, as of late its been what I've been craving more than anything else. It goes without saying that Grouper falls into this category heaviest for me, but my palette has expanded to include adoration for several other modern staples of the genre.

William Basinski is perhaps the most recognized figure in modern avant-garde ambient music. His Disintegration Loops volumes are often recommended first and foremost - however I'm most partial to his Meloncholia release of 2003. Below are a couple of my favorite selections.





Tim Hecker is another leading example of modern day music artists focused on haunting soundscapes. His first release under his own name, entitled Haunt Me, Haunt Me Do It Again, still stands ground as his strongest release to date. All his efforts since have been more than appreciated and well-received too, it's more a matter of mood. However, he's released a teaser for the song “The Piano Drop” off his upcoming album Ravedeath 1972 that is coupled with some excellent vintage footage of the first MIT Baker House Piano Drop. It's quite a compelling glimpse into what we're in store for.



Another acclaimed artist, whose The Blue Notebooks stole my heart in 2004 and cemented my love of experimental-classical infused with field-recordings, is the genius that is Max Richter. His compositions, especially on the aforementioned album, really resonated with me during a slightly desperate time in my past. His string arrangements, meshed with verbal passages and distant piano melodies, are the perfect remedy for any lonely souls in need of sympathetic company. Here's another example:



If you're interested in further listening, I'd recommend checking out Deaf Center, Belong, Jefre Cantu-Ledesma and Motion Sickness of Time Travel (thanks SJN) - and pretty much anything on the Type or Kranky record labels.